Bill Skarsgård • Roman Godfrey Imagines

And I love You

Hello, this is a lovely request that I enjoyed writing very much ! 🌼

Only slightly nsfw! Some content might be triggering, as it deals with body issues

It's a feeling you know all too well, having lived with it since you were a but a young child, living in the world of swimming with tee shirts on and always feeling a pit of insecurity in your stomach when changing with other people around.

You thought you'd grow out of it, that when you got older you'd find it silly to keep your shirt on during sex or grimace at the thought of taking showers with your partner.

But alas, it stayed.

And you hate it, because the man you are in love with is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen in your life. Not only do you question what great tidings you did in your past life to get him, but you also wonder why.

Why does he profess his love for the parts of yourself you despise? What does he see that you don't?

"You're making that face, what's wrong."

You hear his velvety voice in your ear as he stands behind you, hands placed on the counter in front of you as his warm breath fans the back of your neck.

You swivel in the stool you're in, biting the tender flesh on inside of your lip as you lean your head back against the broadness of his chest, his cologne making your insides feel warm.

"Nothing, just...thinking." you force a small, breathy laugh, watching as he drums his lengthy fingers against the countertop while his arms keep you enclosed against his figure.

You find yourself admiring the veins that run up and down his thick forearms like vines on a tree, somehow elegant despite the way they're strewn out in random areas.

"About?" He sings in your ear, his  husky arms wrapping around you like a protection blanket, providing you enough comfort and solace to confess, hands running along those same forearms you were admiring just moments ago.

"I'm sorry I don't ever take my shirt off. And I'm sorry I always complain when you touch my stomach. I get to see you...to touch you...wherever I want. And it's not fair that you can't do the same."

You let out a sigh, swallowing the lump in your throat as you look down at your lap, letting your back relax agaist the mass of his front.

"Why would you be sorry? You can do whatever you want with your body, and because I respect and love you, I'm fine with whatever you're comfortable with."

His voice is soft and warm, melting through the glacial feeling in your chest as he squeezes you tighter against him, wanting to somehow force these thoughts of self doubt out of your head.

"Yeah but, I want to-I want to do those things. I just-when I was younger, I'd see these girls. They'd be my age, but we couldn't be more different. They didn't have to squeeze into their jeans or say no everytime one of their friends wanted to go eat out."

He let's you continue, even as you pause.

"And when I met you, it took me so long to even realize you weren't joking when you said you wanted to take me to dinner."

His arms recoil from you for a moment, a soft gasp passing your lips as you're suddenly spun around in your stool, facing him as he leans down to your level with his arms still on either side of you, hands back to their previous residency on the edge of counter.

His fair eyebrows are pressed together by a crease in his forehead, plush lips down turned at the corners as his irises search yours for a moment of confirmation.

His cappuccino colored hair is messy from lounging in the bed a day, bits of it hanging by his eyes or sticking up by his ears.

"A joke? Why the hell would it be a joke?"

As rough as his voice sounds, you know that it's just the tone that inexorably forms whenever he's upset or confused. He's not mad at you by any means, just mad at your brain and the way it makes you feel.

You shrug shamefully, looking down at your lap again as you pick at a hangnail, trying not to focus on the heat of his gaze. 

"You could have anyone, you know? A model, or someone whos hips don't accidentally bump you when you try to move past me in the kitchen."

You can't help but to smile sadly, finally looking up at him.

You've never seen this look in his eyes, it's raw and real and all for you. It's like fury and love and adoration all in one, and you don't realize how much your words have affected him until he's standing up straight and tall, hands pulling you to the edge of your stool by your waist.

"You see these hips? I love them, so fucking much. I love how soft they are."

He leans down, nose brushing your cheek as his soft lips graze past your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

"And I love how easily I can grip onto them when I fuck you, or when we make love."

He squeezes your hips with enough force to make your breath hitch, your hands moving to his broad shoulders out of reflex, fingertips toying with the soft material of his shirt right at the collar.

"And I love holding you at night, all the time actually. I love the feeling of you. Every part of you. Even your little belly and even the dimples in the back of your thighs."

He moves his hands south, your heart beat becoming uneven as he finally looks at you, face so close to yours you can see every freckle and blemish, even the scar that has left a small dent in his olive skin.

He's so beautiful, you simply can't comprehend it.

"And I'll tell you everyday how fucking stunning you are, until you believe it. I don't want a model, or someone who doesn't have to squeeze into their jeans, I want you."

His words make your chest ache in the best way possible, his hands nearly covering half of your face as they cup your cheeks in his warm palms, pillowy lips setting your body and mind at ease as they press against your mouth.

Maybe it'll take time, to love yourself the way he does. To accept the parts of you that he adores, but maybe, just maybe, the yearning he feels in his chest when he looks at you will be so palpable that when you look in the mirror-

You'll see each memory of where he's been, etched onto your skin in the form of a ghostly touch, and you'll love every part of you.

Hello I hope the requester, as well as everyone else enjoyed this. It wasn't my best and I promise I wasn't trying to portray the whole

"I love myself because a man taught me to"

Cause uh, that's not what I was going for but hopefully the message is clear. You're beautiful. I love you.

💗-xx